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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

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you & I (just meant to be)

Author: @rosegardeninwinter

Prompt: This silly, silly ditty was inspired by two (count ‘em! two!) lovely prompts which are as follows “Peeta can’t stop staring at Katniss in her costume :0” and “Everlark meeting at a fancy dress party dressed as a ‘matching’ pair, although they don’t each other - maybe a famous couple but who don’t need the other … Joker and Harley Quinn, Batman and Robin or my favorite: Anna and Elsa from Frozen … Peeta would make a wonderful Anna” - I thought these two went well together, and took a couple of creative liberties to make them jive. Hope you lovelies like! [submitted by @deardiaryithinkiamaghost and @wendywobbles]

Rating: T, for implied Everlark shenanigans

Author’s Note: Thank you to my dear @archersandsunsets for her second pair of eyes on this one and to all the lovely moderators and coordinators of @seasonsofeverlark, the true MVPs. It’s been a busy month, so I apologize for any incoherence. Sometimes, the heart just wants goofy modern AU fluff. Alrighty, Chatty Cathy is done … enjoy!

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“Katniss, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Prim exclaims, though it sounds pretty pathetic with her congested, pinked nose. “You make the perfect ice queen!”

“I don’t think that’s usually a compliment,” Katniss says dourly, plopping down on the couch where her sister is situated with several fuzzy blankets, a box of tissues, and a large bowl of ice cream. She can’t taste it very well, but it’s the spirit of the thing that counts. Prim is in denial.

“I wish I could go,” she whines, holding the “o” in a long, dramatic note.

“I wish I could stay,” Katniss shoots back, holding the “ay” just as long.

“No you don’t,” Prim shoos. “You love our friends.”

“I do,” Katniss sighs, plucking at the silver sequined sleeves of her—well, Prim’s—Elsa costume. It’s too long on Katniss, with her sister’s good half inch on her, but it’s all they’ve got. Her original plan was to pull the classic black top and pants plus cat ears, but when it became apparent Prim wasn’t budging from the couch this Halloween, the real snowy blonde princess of the family had insisted Katniss take her outfit.

“You can’t show up to Finnick’s in a slapdash, last second costume, Katniss,” she’d said. “The man lives for Halloween. Don’t insult his extravagance with plastic headbands and tails.”

“I do love our friends, but … I don’t want to go out tonight. I’m tired.”

“Just half an hour,” Prim says. “Snag me some candy, make some pleasantries” — “okay, Jane Bennet” — “and then come home. At least one of us needs to show up. Just pretend to have a social life for thirty minutes, okay? For me.”

Katniss rolls her eyes as she gets up from the couch in a twinkling of blue overlay and snowflake hair pins in her braid. She does a quick once over of her shadowy makeup in the hallway mirror as she grabs her car keys. “What do you want?”

“Chocolate. Anything with chocolate and peanut butter. I’ll save it for when I can experience taste again,” Prim calls back. “Oh, and if Delly’s cousin is there, all of the cupcakes he brought.”

“Mmkay. All the chocolate and cupcakes, coming right up,” Katniss says with a resigned smile. On her way out, she clicks on her phone. It’s just now eight. She resolves to be firmly ensconced in bed by nine at the latest. She gives her sister a wave, keys jangling. “I’ll be back. Soon.”

At ten thirty, Prim looks up from her Harry Potter induced doze to find she’s received a text from her sister.

Staying a little later. Fifteen minutes maybe. Have the treats.

Prim checks the time stamp. The text was sent forty five minutes ago. This might be cause for alarm were it not for the text underneath Katniss’s, from Finnick. It’s a photo, taken in front of a makeshift photo op with purple and silver and orange streamers in the background and cutesy little bat and pumpkin and vampire fang cardboard props for people to hold up. It’s captioned “You can’t marry a man you just met!”

Prim brings her hand to her mouth to catch a laugh before it turns into a cough. Her sister, Elsa costume sparkling in the flash, is pretending to shake her finger disapprovingly at her “Anna” counterpart. The laugh breaks free this time. Prim grabs for her tepid tea to soothe her throat as she cracks up over the really incredible image of Peeta Mellark, Delly Cartwright’s stocky older cousin, in a red braided wig, and strikingly accurate green rosemaled gown, sitting quite comfortably, if amusingly, over his athletic build. He’s pretending to gripe back at Katniss about why exactly he can marry Hans of the Southern Isles. Their mock scowls barely contain smiles.

Prim quickly fires a text back to Finnick: How??? Did that happen???

Finnick’s text comes through a second later: The Lord works in mysterious ways! Idk!

Okay but like?? Yes??

I know!!!!

Some people are worth melting for????

Her cold never bothered him anyway? *finger guns*

Omg.

Katniss arrives back at the house at five to midnight, and Prim pretends to be asleep, watching with one eye cracked half open as her sister unstraps her silver heels and dumps them by the front door, drops her keys into the bowl. Sets down a full bag of what Prim can only guess are cupcakes and sweets.

She’s humming under her breath. It sounds like the chorus of “Love is an Open Door.” Prim wonders if it’s possible that her folk and indie music loving sister actually listened to a Disney album on the way home. Katniss unbraids her hair and shakes it loose, dropping the pins on the side table as she sinks into the squashy chair kitty-corner to Prim’s couch. She curls up, knees to chest, making her look like some sort of ice mermaid as she takes out her phone and taps something on it, still humming. Prim watches her chew her cheek pensively, as if deciding to send the text. She takes a deep breath and taps one final time on the screen, then drums her phone nervously against her lips for a moment. Prim’s nerves are firing with anticipation.

They wait a silent minute. Two. Three. Three and a half —

Katniss’s screen lights up again and she flips the phone up to stare at the reply. Her whole face softens. Eyes, brow, edges of her mouth. Katniss bites her lip and closes her eyes, letting her head fall back onto the chair cushion with a contented sigh. “‘You know what’s crazy?’” she sing-songs in a mumble under her breath. “‘We finish each other’s sandwiches … I’ve never met someone who thinks so much like …” She yawns. “Me.”

“You know,” Prim says, and Katniss shrieks, sending her phone flying to the carpet, “Peeta Mellark strikes me more as a Kristoff than a Hans.”

“Prim!” Katniss yelps, going red. “Wha — what? What do you mean?”

“So we’re done with stupid plastic cat ears for Halloween then I take it?”

[the very next Halloween]

“Whoa. Okay.” Peeta sits up from the pile of cushions at the head of their bed, eyes wide and staring in approval, pupils gone dark. “Katniss Everdeen in cat ears is not something I knew I needed until this moment.”

“Oh sure,” Katniss laughs. “Because it’s definitely the cat ears that are doing it for you. Not these.” She hoists one stockinged leg up onto the bed like a mountain climber posing for a magazine.

“Well, those are certainly part of the appeal,” he teases, reaching for her leg, running his hands up and down the silk tights. “As is this lovely number.” He toys with the hem of her dress, a strapless black velvet thing that falls just above her knee. “Where’s this from?”

“Jo,” Katniss sighs. “She says if I’m going to be a cat, I need to be a Gretchen Wieners level cat.”

“For whose benefit, I wonder?” Peeta muses, cheek nuzzling gently at her lower thigh.

“You wonder?” Katniss laughs, taking her leg away and flopping onto the bed. She glances over at him, eyes sly and somehow soft at once. “I don’t.”

“I can’t help thinking,” he muses. “that this is something of a counterproductive plan on Jo’s part. Because now, I have a sudden and distinct interest in staying in tonight.”

“Oh?” Katniss raises a come hither eyebrow and pushes up on her elbows to accept the kiss he plants on her lips as he crawls over her, urging her back to the headboard. “Is it the cat ears?” She reaches up to give the (already molting) plastic and faux fur ears a flick.

“The Kat ears,” he says. He nips softly at her real ear and she shivers. “The Kat nose.” He kisses that too. His nose nudges her head back, inclining her neck at the perfect angle for him to plant a stretch of kisses down it. “The Kat neck.” His mouth wanders down the front of her dress and he scoots down the bed with it. “The Kat’s cradle.”

“You have that,” she says, hiking her legs up to hug around his middle because her arms can’t reach to hold him. “You’ll always have that.”

“A piece of that Kit Kat bar.” He kisses her stomach. “The whole Kit and Caboodle,” he teases and she laughs loudly, but on a dime his tone is changing, from silly and playful into husky and dangerous, as he moves lower. “Kitten,” he murmurs and her fingers curl in the bedsheets at the name. “Grab my phone,” he tells her, hooking his fingers around the band of her tights, “Tell Finnick we’re going to be late.”

An hour or so later finds the cat ears lost somewhere among the remains of their costumes and a hasty snack of pepperoni rolls cooking in the convection oven. Peeta, festooned in boxers and an old apron, presides over the food like it needs a baker’s supervision. Katniss perches on the counter, wrapped chest to toes in the white sheet she pulled from their bed, feet batting absently at the cabinets.

“This is a good look too,” he tells her, gesturing with the salad tongs he’s using to handle the pepperoni rolls.

“What is? This sheet?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of sexy ghost.”

“Or sexy Roman senator,” she laughs, tossing one edge of the sheet over a bare shoulder. “Sexy Julius Caesar.”

“You’d make a good Julius Caesar,” he says.

“Why?”

“You’ve got that “came, saw, conquered” vibe. Least that’s how I felt that night at Finnick’s party.”

“Conquered?”

“I was gonna say seen, but — yes. Conquered too. I couldn’t stop looking at you.” He snaps his fingers. “Sexy ice queen? Definitely.”

“I’m not exactly sure what kind of Freudian analysis one could make on falling in love with the guy dressed as your fictional sister but — ”

Peeta shrugs as the timer beeps, and he sets to fishing the pepperoni rolls onto a plate for them to share. “I choose to think of it as a metaphor for how the two people you love most in the world are your real, actual sister …” He sets the rolls beside her on the counter and sets his hands gently on her sides. She lets the sheet fall and pool slightly around her waist to cup his face as he leans in to kiss her forehead, very gently, thumbs rubbing circles on her hips. “And some loser who has the luck of … oh, I guess having the same first initial and hair color as she does,” he jokes.

“And the same beautiful heart,” Katniss corrects in a whisper. “I mean that.” She’s rarely so sentimental to anyone except him. She smirks. “And I haven’t even started drinking yet.”

“Well, my pretty kitty,” he starts, wrapping both his arms around her middle and hoisting her off the counter. She rolls her eyes, even as her hands card through his hair. “The night is still young.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #rosegardeninwinter #submission #octoberlark 2020 #octoberlark

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

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Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 11 - De Orfeo Records

Summary: Sunset Cure AU, Willex, is there a chance?, 2.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

WARNINGS: death mention

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Reggie and Carlos were running around in the middle of taking down equipment after their latest gig. Luke shook his head as he wrapped cords over his arm and placed them in a storage box. Alex, however, was nervously trying not to get run into as he carried various pieces of his drum set out and handed them to Bobby in the back of the van. He could forgive Reggie not really helping out since he was taking responsibility for the kid, but also hadn’t anticipated that their energies combined would put him more on edge.

As he went inside to grab the last piece of his set, he found that Reggie had taken his flannel and tied it around his neck like a cape, with Carlos wearing his leather jacket in a similar fashion. They approached Bobby, who immediately joined their game and they pretended to battle each other. By the time Alex had finished getting his whole set in the van, they were playing out a dramatic victory over defeating Bobby.

“Guys, this is great, but we really should finish packing up,” Alex said, although he was smiling from the entertainment.

“I guess you’re the next bad guy we fight,” Carlos said in a mock-deep voice.

“We can schedule it later, Robin,” Alex teased.

“Oh, no, he’s Batman,” Reggie corrected. “I’m Robin!” He put his fists on his hips in a proud superhero pose.

A big SHHHHHH came from Luke and they all looked over at him to see what was up. He was far off by the venue office, holding a phone to his ear and writing onto a notepad. His eyes were wide with excitement, and his energy was only held back by the other hand tapping against the paper. The boys watched as his smile grew bigger and he said goodbye, barely putting the phone back in place properly.

“YEEESS!!” he cried, raising his fists into the air in celebration. They all came running toward him to see what had happened.

“Boys, we’ve got good news!” Luke told them. Looking on in anticipation, Alex gripped his fanny pack tightly. “One of the record execs that came tonight is offering for us to sign onto their label and put out some songs! He even heard our demo!”

Everyone celebrated, jumping up and down and high-fiving each other. Reggie let Carlos climb onto him in a piggyback and they both yelled triumphantly. Luke pulled Alex into a bro hug, then Bobby. Alex held his arms up and placed his hands on top of his head, unable to believe what had just happened. Euphoria filled his head like helium and he went to double-high-five Carlos, who was still perched on Reggie’s back.

“So what else did they say?” Bobby asked, still smiling.

Luke had to shake off some more excitement before he could explain the rest.

“Ahhh, so he said we could meet in a few days to discuss business and contracts and such, let us get a look at the studio and stuff. I got all his contact information and he’s totally excited to get us on. We’re moving on up boys!”

The celebration continued, and their renewed energy caused the rest of the take-down to go by much faster. They were still riding the high as they drove home. Alex listened to Luke talk about which songs they would want to record first and where they would land on the charts. He remembered that feeling he had back at the Pearl during their sound check. Doing that? For real and not just dreaming and hoping about it? They hadn’t made it just yet, but this was a change he could be excited for.

Reggie had been staying with Carlos, which the rest of the boys figured was a good excuse to not stay home. As Bobby pulled up to the house, he and Luke began climbing out of the van. Carlos and Reggie were already inside.

“Uh, guys?” Alex said, still in the back of the van. They all turned back to him. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” Luke gestured like oh-silly-me. “We all decided to stay here for the night. It’s just a nice change from the garage and Julie’s aunt has lots of leftovers that need to be eaten so…”

“So...I’m grounded,” Alex reminded, raising his eyebrows. His parents hadn’t been happy about him sneaking out to the pier the other night.

“Screw your old man, Alex,” Bobby said.

“Yeah, he can eat my shorts if he tries to do anything about it,” Luke added.

Alex took a moment to think. Disobeying wasn’t going to do anything for or against him at this point - he kept anything truly important to him out of his parents’ reach and since he’d gotten the punching bag he could actually contend with their tempers. They couldn’t punish him in a way that mattered.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point,” he said finally, following them into the house.

They found Reggie and Carlos already raiding the kitchen.

“Alex, you’re staying too?” Reggie said when he saw them enter.

“Yes!” Carlos cried, pumping his fist. “You get to make popcorn. Tonight, the Empire Strikes Back!”

“Oh yeah, baby!” Reggie responded as the rest of the boys began following orders from Carlos. Alex wasn’t crazy about Star Wars, but eh….young Mark Hamill was hot so he didn’t mind too much. He was sure most of them would fall asleep during the movie anyway.

A couple hours later it turned out he was right. Carlos was slumped on the floor leaning back against the chair Luke was sitting in, hand still in the bowl of popcorn. Luke was leaning on his hand, breathing soundly. Alex had watched earlier as Bobby’s head flopped onto Reggie’s shoulder and the flustered look that had overcome Reggie’s face, and it was too good not to smile at. Once the VCR began automatically rewinding the movie, Alex shut off the TV.

He stared at the ceiling as he pulled the handle on the La-Z-Boy he was in and reclined into a somewhat comfortable position. Even now, weeks later after meeting for only a day, the first thing he wished he could do was tell Willie the news about the record label. He probably would have been just as ecstatic as the rest of them, if not more. Victoria would be back soon and hopefully have some news. He guessed it didn’t matter if he’d been right about the missing kid, but maybe just knowing if she got to talk with Willie would be enough.

The memory of soft brown eyes still rose in his mind. He’d been doing his best to keep that moment cemented in his brain because he’d noticed it helped him sleep. It was funny because he’d done the same thing with the guys, but staring into Willie’s eyes had been an entirely different experience. Alex wished he had the proper words to describe it, but the best he could do was marvel. Willie was clearly unaware of the strength he held, and it made Alex want to bring that out with his entire being. If he ever did get the chance, that would be something worth looking forward to.

Victoria didn’t arrive until the afternoon the next day. Since Alex felt that she had gone because of him, he made everyone else clean her house as well as they could. No traces of food on the floor, no messy beds, and the kitchen was cleaner than when they had found it. As she came back into the house, she put a hand over her heart.

“Wow!” she exclaimed. “I should take trips like this more often if you boys are this good!”

“Yes, tía, please, please, please let them babysit me again! Pleeeeaaassee!” Carlos begged with his hands pressed together.

“Ay, sobrino, no me quieres?” she shook her head.

“No, I do!” Carlos tried to recover. “But they’re fun!”

As if to make a point, Reggie rubbed a hand on Carlos’ head.

“It’s okay little dude, we’ll be back.”

Victoria pulled her wallet out of her purse.

“Well, you boys took very good care of him and I promised I would pay you, so here you go.” She handed each of them a generous amount of cash. Luke, Reggie and Bobby all whooped as they thanked her and headed to the van. Alex held back with anticipation. Victoria looked at him seriously.

“There was no connection,” she told him before he asked. “His guardian explained everything to me, and there was nothing else to go on. I wanted to know because I thought I could solve an old case, but I had to let it go.”

“Well, did you get to talk to him?” Alex tried not to sound too urgent.

“You mean Willie? No, I never saw him. After talking with his guardian I didn’t need to.”

Bowing his head, Alex made himself swallow his other questions. She had at least tried.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry if it was inconvenient.”

“I chose to go, don’t worry about it,” she assured.

Nodding and saying thanks one more time, Alex hurried out after the rest of his friends.

A few days later, the boys slammed the doors of the van shut as they looked up at the building before them. It was so plain and simple on the outside; they never would’ve guessed there was a studio there. It was likely they had driven past it many times on the way to a gig. Pushing through the door, they all looked at the logo in neon lights on the wall: De Orfeo Records.

Collectively, the boys took in awed breaths at the reality of where they were standing. This was too good to believe. Alex took in the scene, trying to imagine this being a place he came to regularly. Could he ever get used to it, or get over the sheer excitement of just being there? Luke patted him on the back, desperately trying to contain himself. They wandered through the halls a little bit until they came to a room where the door was sitting open.

“Oh, boys!” A man called as they almost walked past it. “In here!”

As they all shuffled in, the man shook their hands and pointed them to a couch where they could sit. Alex nervously stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he took a seat. The man across from them was dressed surprisingly casually, if not with obvious expensive taste. He still had sunglasses on, but their yellow tint was clearly not for actual UV protection.

“Nice to meet all of you,” he was saying. “My name is Alan, I’m one of the producers here at De Orfeo. Which one of you did I talk to on the phone?”

Luke raised his hand.

“That was me,” he said, already gushing with excitement. “How’d you hear about us, anyway?”

Alan didn’t answer, but instead looked up at the doorway as someone else came in.

“Hello boys!” Caleb Covington entered, his charismatic smile spread wide across his face. “So nice to see you again.”

Alex’s heart rate immediately sped up and he clenched his hands inside his pockets. How could it be? He thought his last chance to reach out to Willie was gone and seeing Caleb brought back everything he hadn’t been able to ask Julie’s aunt. All the guys were happy to recognize him.

“I won’t be staying for the negotiations,” Caleb said. “but I wanted to properly introduce myself as the owner of this label. I want to assure you boys the best experience as newcomers in the industry. Let any nerves that still linger walk right out the door.” His eyes landed on Alex for a moment, and it felt purposeful. “Take it away, Alan.”

Listening to the producer’s pitch was difficult to focus on now, and Alex had to fight hard against his brain latching onto the new hopes that had arisen. He was thankful that when paperwork came out, Bobby was mindful enough to have them read through it. It was taking too long, though, and Alex was already wishing he had his drumsticks in hand to help pass the time. Reggie had so many questions, and Luke had trouble understanding numerous words - at least that kept Alex occupied because he could be helpful in that. A good hour had passed going over all the information.

“This looks great!” Luke said finally. “How are we feelin’ boys?”

Each of them nodded and looked around at each other, confirming that they all agreed on every settlement. Luke grabbed a pen and pulled his copy of the contract toward him, pausing momentarily to drink in what was happening. Then he signed his name in giant letters. Alex, Bobby, and Reggie followed suit, and Alex could feel a weird tingle rush through his hand as he made the final flourish with his pen. They were all in now.

As the band began celebrating, Caleb knocked on the doorframe.

“If it’s alright with you boys, I wanted to speak with Alex privately for a moment,” Caleb said, gesturing for Alex to follow him outside the room.

His curiosity was at the point of overflowing, and he went out trying to control his trembling hands. Maybe Caleb had talked to Willie after all. This could be his way to bridge that gap and he wouldn’t have to live off of just memories.

Everyone else was still going nuts over getting the contracts signed back in the room. Standing in the lobby, Caleb was looking at him seriously, maybe even pitifully. It quickly drained the exhilaration in Alex’s chest.

“I can tell you’ve been wanting to ask me some questions,” he began. “But before you do, I thought it was best to inform you of some important details first.”

Alex looked up at him with his hands back in his pockets and gulped. Why was his heartbeat suddenly so loud? He knew Caleb couldn’t actually hear it, but it still embarrassed him. His mouth began to go dry.

Caleb furrowed his brow, as if what he was about to say wasn’t easy to get out. He bowed his head and took a breath before looking at Alex again.

“Willie,” he started. Then he paused. “Is dead.”

The trembling in Alex’s hands stopped.

He stared at Caleb, as if he could pull off the serious expression and find a joking smile underneath. It was a few moments before he remembered to breathe in, and blinking seemed to cut that moment into two as if the first one wasn’t real.

“No, no, that can’t - ” he heard the words spill out of his mouth. Why was his body so tense and ready to defend itself? His cheeks felt hot.

“I know the news is hard,” Caleb interrupted, placing a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “I can hardly bear it myself. There was an electrical fire. He didn’t make it out.”

Alex could only shake his head. Caleb’s expression wasn’t changing and for some reason it was the most infuriating sight. He could punch that face and make him bleed if he really wanted to. The adrenaline was already rushing to his fist.

“There has to be a mistake,” he said, chuckling darkly.

“There is no mistake,” Caleb told him firmly.

How was the man so calm? How could he say those words out loud and not immediately crumble to the earth? How could he have worn such a large smile earlier?

“I know you two weren’t friends for long, but he made it clear you were important to him.”

The words came through as if from a tiny speaker. They’d only gotten one day and it wasn’t enough. Willie couldn’t go like that, he simply couldn’t - not when Alex needed to know if they could’ve ever had something real. He still wanted to know so many things about him and look into those brown eyes and soften the hard edges on them. He needed to -

He was crying. On his hands and knees, trying to get the dark shadow that had grown inside his chest to come out. It made him choke. Caleb had apparently left him alone, unable to console him, and he felt hands on his back and shoulders as he fought to properly breathe. Luke was knelt down before him, mouth hanging open in want of words but not able to form any. Bobby was gripping his hand and supporting him as he and Reggie pulled him up onto his feet.

“We need to get him in the van,” one of them was saying.

Any movement from there was not his own. All three boys were trying their hardest to help the tallest member of their band out of the building. Everything was numb - like a machine that had broken down after being run too hard.

The brown eyes faded into darkness, murky and thick. There was no air in his lungs to scream into that dark, no tie-dye, no rolling of wheels on the sidewalk, no ‘ribbit’, no more wondering and hoping.

Dead quiet. That was all.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #willex #alive au #alex mercer #willie #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #carlos molina #aunt victoria #caleb covington #tw death mention #sunset curve #viva las vegas #de orfeo records #fiddlepickdouglas

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bunnimew · 4 years

Text

Not Much for a Soul

Rating: T Fandom: Rise of the Guardians Relationship: Jack Frost/Pitch Black Tags: Demon AU, Humor, Fluff, Consent issues dragged out into the light lawl, Kind of a meetcute if you tilt your head and squint a little Summary: For RotG Halloween 2020: Day 6 @rotg-halloween

A flat bike tire changes Pitch's future.

On AO3 here.

This route was a lot less terrifying on a bike.

The traffic was too far away. Pitch never usually had that thought, but tonight, limited to the speed and resilience of his own two feet, the sounds of life were muffled and distant. He felt that if something happened to him here, no one would arrive in time. No one might even hear him.

The buildings on either side of the street were tall and dark, closed and locked for the night. Nobody here had worked as late as Pitch had. None of them had stayed late enough to be sentry for his safe passage.

He was being dramatic.

Nothing was going to happen. If there was nobody here, the way it looked and sounded, then there was no one here to help him nor hurt him. He just had to get home.

Pitch reset his grip on the handlebars and decided not to think about it anymore. He would need to get the tire replaced in the morning; he didn’t want to walk this path at night again if he didn’t have to.

“Nice bike.”

Pitch damn near jumped out of his skin. It was his own fault. He’d hyped up the desertion of the street and the creepiness of the quiet all by himself. If he was afraid of the lone, thin teen standing under the streetlight who looked like he might weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, he did it to himself.

What was this kid doing out here, anyway?

“Thanks.” The reply was automatic. Compliment? Thanks. “Can I help you?”

“Oooh,” the teen smiled. “Accent. I like it.”

Pitch wished he hadn’t stopped, because now it would be rude to keep walking.

“You don’t seem lost.”

The teen shook his head. “Nah, I’m right where I want to be.”

Pitch thought as much. He gestured in the direction he’d been walking. “Then, if you don’t mind…”

He didn’t manage a full step before the teen spoke again. “Maybe you can still help me.”

Pitch swallowed, irritated, and put his foot back down. Manners were a curse. “With?”

“I’m Jack,” he said, and tilted his head forward charmingly with a smile to match, “and I’m looking for some souls. May I have yours?”

Pitch couldn’t help it. He snorted a laugh.

“I know, it sounds stupid—”

“That’s the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard.”

“It is pretty bad, isn’t it?” Jack’s nose wrinkled in distaste, but his smile didn’t go anywhere. “What’s your name?”

“Pitch.” He nodded. “But I’m not really looking to date, right now, so…”

He was stopped again. “Not even a pretty little thing like me?” Jack batted his blue eyes at him and tilted his face at an alluring angle. It was an impressively self-aware display.

And Pitch had to admit, those eyes were quite pretty. Combined with his pale, dishevelled hair and rounded chin, the man was striking. And maybe he wasn’t as young as Pitch originally thought; he’d never met someone under the age of twenty this smooth. Smooth didn’t mean trustworthy, though. “I don’t even know you.”

“You know I’m looking for souls,” Jack insisted with bright eyes and a convincing grin.

Pitch snorted again. “Does that line ever work?”

“Surprisingly high success rate.”

Pitch shook his head, but there was a laugh on his lips. Disbelieving maybe, but a laugh all the same. “You’re on an awfully deserted street if you’re looking for people.”

Jack’s grin changed. It was small, but Pitch could swear it was… devilish, now. “I found one,” he pointed out.

Which, Pitch shrugged a shoulder, “I’ll give you that.”

Jack splayed his hands and despite all the smiles, all the posing, now was the most salesman-like he’d seemed all night. “So what do you want for it?”

Pitch furrowed his brows. Had he missed something? “What do you mean?”

“Say I was a demon,” Jack said, moving his hands and shoulders in overly casual ways that made Pitch pay extra attention to them, to what they could be hiding, “Say I was actually looking for souls. Would you sell me yours?”

That was maybe the oddest question Pitch had ever been asked. He wondered why he wasn’t saying no. “I suppose that depends. What are you offering?”

Jack laughed. It wasn’t the sleazy laugh of a dealmaker or the forced laugh of marketing. He sounded delighted. “Care and affection?”

Pitch considered it, but only for a second. “That doesn’t seem like much for a soul.”

“It’s really not.” Jack shook his head, and Pitch got the impression he was having the time of his life with this.

Pitch suddenly realized he was still clutching his bike, standing on a deserted street in his work clothes, talking to a man barely out of college about selling souls. He blinked, and said the words before he thought more about it. “This is an odd conversation to be having this time of night in a place like this.”

Jack shrugged and leaned back against the light pole behind him. The yellow cone made it hard for Pitch to say whether his hair was actually white or a pale blond, and it washed out the blue in his eyes. “How about love?”

Pitch blinked again and told himself to stop looking so hard at Jack. They were having a conversation, still, apparently. “I’m sorry, what?”

“If I promised to love you,” Jack said, with a patience and exactness that made his words sound much more serious than this hypothetical conversation probably deserved, “would you sell me your soul for that?”

Pitch tilted his head curiously. “Wouldn’t you already have it?”

Jack’s smile was so much more gentle now. “That would be if you,” he pointed at Pitch, then himself. “Loved me.”

Pitch took a second, but conceded. “So it would.”

“If anything,” Jack continued, “it would be like you owned my soul.”

Pitch shifted his weight and released the handle of his bike to set that hand on his hip. If every romance novel ever written was to be believed, then that was not untrue. Many questions sprang to Pitch’s mind. “Is this a line you usually use to pick people up?”

Jack barked a surprised laugh. “You know, actually, I’ve never tried it quite like this before.”

Pitch wasn’t sure he believed that. “Why would you purchase a soul just to give yours back?”

“Well, because I wouldn’t actually be giving mine, since I don’t really have one to give, but also,” Jack’s eyes had rolled up as he thought, his arms sort of half-crossed, half-gesturing as he worked through the logic. It was kind of endearing. “‘Cause it would be nice, right? Being in love? Loving someone and knowing they wouldn’t leave you?”

Pitch supposed he could see the appeal, put like that. It was a little bit psychotic and a lotta bit problematic, but alright, in a fantasy sort-of assumed consent kind of way, loving someone and knowing they wouldn’t leave you was nice. “But can you love if you’re missing your soul?”

Jack bit his lip, looking very pleased. “You sure can.”

“You sound very confident,” Pitch mused. This whole conversation was very strange. To imagine Pitch wouldn’t be having it if he’d missed that nail. “So if I sell you my soul, you’ll promise to love me forever?”

“Well, as long as you live,” Jack said. He seemed wholly unconcerned about that. “And you’d have to wait ten years, of course. Soul contracts always come with a grace period before they start.”

“Oh, of course.” Pitch pressed his hand to his chest dramatically. “I never meant to rush. How could I forget that deals with demons have a decade delay? How foolish of me.”

Jack’s smile widened and he pushed away from the streetlight. “I really like you.”

Pitch was flattered and a little bit shocked. His hand drifted down from his chest. “After only one conversation?”

Jack shrugged carelessly. “Sometimes you just know.”

His steps didn’t stop. Pitch wasn’t sure what to do, but with his bike to steady, he couldn’t exactly retreat. Or, at least, not without being terribly obvious about it.

“Sometimes you’re wrong.”

“Yeah,” Jack breathed, now close enough that he didn’t have to speak at full volume for Pitch to hear him. He finally stopped at a very polite, but very forward, distance. Pitch wasn’t sure what to do. “But I don’t think I am.”

“You don’t even know me.”

Jack’s smile looked so very pleased.

“So just to recap,” he said, and Pitch was sure from his expression, from his body language, that he was having so much fun with this, “If I promise to love you, with all my heart, ten years from now of course.”

Pitch found himself muttering, “Of course,” but he didn’t know why.

“Then you’ll give me your soul?”

He wasn’t sure why this needed a recap. It was all hypothetical, wasn’t it? There was no way Jack was actually going to love him in ten years, especially not if they didn’t… see each other between then and now. But those were the terms they had discussed, weren’t they?

“I suppose I’m not doing anything with it.”

Jack laughed, but he was shaking his head. And moving forward again. “Good answer, but that’s not how contracts work. You have to say yes.” Jack looked up and met his eyes very intently. “Or, you know, ‘I do.’”

“I do?”

Jack nodded. “You do.”

Pitch wasn’t sure why he was saying anything at all, but Jack was very close now and Pitch… wanted to. “Yes.”

“Excellent.”

Pitch gasped. Cold fingers pressed against the side of his face, and he wondered when Jack’s hand had gotten that close. His palm tilted Pitch’s face, and now he knew what Jack wanted. What he wanted, too, if he was honest. It was a silly deal to make, there was no way it was real, but it seemed real, and this felt real, and Jack really didn’t seem all that young, anymore.

Pitch’s hand found its way to Jack’s waist, thin and solid, and that was all the grounding he needed to make a decision, to lean down and take Jack’s lips with his.

It was a chaste kiss, tentative, very unsure, but lingering, and sweet. So sweet, light, like a first love or a New Year’s promise. It filled his chest and made it hard to breathe, and Pitch hadn’t shared a kiss like that in… a while.

Jack, the nymph, licked his lips once then pulled away. It was a terrible tease, but since Pitch wasn’t sure what had come over him in the first place, it was probably best it stay that way. He wasn’t in the habit of kissing strangers on the street and yet, here he was.

“See you in ten years, then,” Jack said as he drifted out of Pitch’s hold. He waved, a flirty little flip of his hand, then started down the street and into the darkness.

Pitch shook himself. Wait, what? “You’re joking?” He wasn’t serious. He was leaving?

“Oh no,” Jack turned back with a secret smile. “We sealed it with a kiss. That means it’s a deal.” He closed one eye in a slow, seductive wink, and only then did Pitch notice the unnatural glow in his bright, blue eyes. They were lit from within by a cold burning fire. Under the streetlight, he never could have guessed. But out in the dark... Jack looked otherworldly. “Your soul is mine, Sweetheart.”

Jack…

Had he really been a demon all along?

“Don’t get too old,” Jack said. He spun slowly on his feet and continued along the street. “I like ‘em spry.” His laugh echoed between buildings on the deserted street. “But I’ve got a good feeling about you. I might even already love you.”

He was insane, surely. Pitch gaped as he watched Jack simply leave him behind after all of that, but between one shadow and the next, he was gone, and there was nothing left to watch.

Pitch wondered what that meant for his soul.

#thebunni #rotghalloween2020 #blackice rotg #blackicerotg #jack frost #pitch black #rise of the guardians #DEMON AU

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